In the Office With Coach Dinklage
by the-voiceless
Summary: (Privately requested story) Drunk ex-boyfriend Justin attacks Viola one night after soccer practice and Coach Dinklage was there to save her. While she's sitting in the office of her hero, an act of forbidden romance follows with many confusing questions. (Oneshot) (CoachxViola) (Story is up for Adaption)


(A/N): Hello readers, this story was a request from a private messenger. The request was special, due to the fact it's much much different than all the other stories on the FanFic Archive She's the Man. Hope you enjoy this bittersweet Oneshot romance between a coach and his protege. Thank you.

Chapter 1:

She checked her watch; it was 6:12 p.m.

Soccer practice had ended less than an hour ago.

"Thanks for rescuing me," Viola Hastings patted her head, squeezing the rag between her fingers. It was quite an evening.

She compressed the cold, cool, soft surface against the hot red blood seeping out of her temple of her head dripping down her cheek. The blood dripped onto the white tile floors in little dots in the tiny office.

It was evident that it needed a good cleaning. From top to bottom, certainly, it would need it. She spotted several dust bunnies hiding beneath the cherry shelves, shoved between the milky white carpet and the mini fridge. The walls had been treasured with pictures of the past, grand and glorious pictures of football/soccer (what have you) framed proudly in glass.

Another thing about Dinklage's office was his pride in his trophies, silver trophies sitting behind his desk. But there were no gold trophies in sight.

"Here, drink this," he offered her a paper cone cup of water from the water jug sitting across the room, gurgling bubbles inside itself.

"That tool Justin Draton came out of nowhere," she sneered, "It was like being ambushed by a drunken Tasmanian Devil, but with blonde hair, girly legs, and carrying a really bad grudge."

"Oh, is that entirely what the little cheeky bastard wanted, Hastings?" Coach Dinklage replied, growling.

He was angry when she didn't expect him to be.

Nothing happened between her and Justin. She wasn't murdered or anything, just struck on the head by his hand. She fell and hit a rock on the ground.

But it didn't seem to make a difference.

The large man towered over her. Burning his eyes straight into hers, not leaving contact.

He allowed the double meaning of his sentence sink into her head. It almost shocked her.

She narrowed his eyes," No. No way. Justin isn't violent. He wouldn't rape me. I've known him longer than you have. There's no way he would have the appropriate I.Q. to even-"

He clapped his hands in her face," Wake up! This isn't Candy Land, Hastings; the world is full of ol' bastards who wouldn't think 2 shits about you. Grow up and face fact, doll, next time I won't be around to help you on your feet."

She frowned.

"Okay, I get it. But I—"

"Here, take this, it will help with the pain."

"Tomorrow when—"

"Take 3 just in case the pain doesn't go down in time."

She huffed, "I was just going to ask you what Principal Gold is going to do tomorrow. Because this has to be some sort of crime, right, because he can't get away with this!"

"It's not for me to say. I'm not deputized as sheriff, now am I?"

"You can bring the sarcasm down."

The coach didn't listen to her last remark. He pulled out a chair, sat on it, and crossed his large legs.

"Now… tell me what you and that Cornwall punk have that's so important that it interrupts my evening plan."

Viola rolled her eyes," He was my boyfriend, but now he's just my ex. Then Duke comes in and then we get together, so Justin was jealous of Duke, but at that time Duke thought I was my brother Sebastian when really I was Viola, which is me, and then Justin and Duke got into a fight and—"

He lifted his hand, stopping her.

"Okay, okay, doll face, I get the picture. It's some bullshit high school drama I don't want any part of. Here," he scooted closer, inspecting her bleeding temple," Here's how this is going to play out. I'm going to call your parents, they come and pick you up, and you stay here and rest up. Don't go anywhere."

"Okay, that's fine," she smiled, before quickly stopping him," And if my mom answers—I am SO sorry. You'll soon understand why I'm apologizing beforehand."

"Alright, but before I do any of what I had promised… Here, come closer."

She closed her eyes, guessing that he was going to inspect her temple, feeling his weight lean into her. It was tempting to not open her eyes but she supposed it was better safe than sorry.

Instead, he kissed her.

His hot warm lips lingered on hers before he broke apart. As he broke apart from her supple lips, her eyes opened and stared into his in a slow motion eternity.

It was a kiss. Coach Dinklage had kissed her.

"I'll be back. Don't move an inch," his sharp grey eyes pierced into her.

Her green eyes wildly looked around.

"What?"

"You keep pressure on your head. Wouldn't want my star soccer player out of the game and it's the beginning of the season. You know how a nightmare that would be. You would disappoint so many people like the team and even me."

"What?"

"I have a feeling in my gut that is always telling me to murder that Cornwall punk bitch. You know how I can be when my temper is out of control, especially when he needs to piss off and stay away from the property of Ilyria, private property. Not to mention, in my stadium."

"What?"

"Sit tight."

He left.

The end


End file.
